


BFSFN: Best Fake Satan For Now

by HiroMyStory



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Humor, Merry Michaelmas 2020, POV Outsider, Suki KNOWS, Twins, canon-typical stalking, crafting, too many references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:53:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiroMyStory/pseuds/HiroMyStory
Summary: Suki KNOWS. Or she’s pretty sure she knows. Like, ninety-nine-point-nine-nine-nine-nine-nine percent sure.
Comments: 43
Kudos: 121





	BFSFN: Best Fake Satan For Now

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Michaelmas! (Belated; yesterday went sideways)
> 
> p.s. The actress who plays Suki was born in 1981, so I ran with that! And thank you to [Claudiapriscus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/claudiapriscus/pseuds/claudiapriscus) for the brainstorming help!

Suki KNOWS.

Or she’s pretty sure she knows. Like, ninety-nine-point-nine-nine-nine-nine-nine percent sure.

Oh, she doesn’t know at first. Not when her ex-BFF Mindy first invites her to LUX when it was the newest club on the strip. Not when she goes back the very next week. And again the day after that.

There’s just something about Lucifer Morningstar. Right from the start. That magic of chocolate mousse and sparklers and secret hookups.

Suki Price is no stranger to obsessions. It starts in middle school with Joey, from the day her Aunt Kumi gives her her first NKOTB cassette. She has a brief fling with Nick Carter in the early Backstreet Boys days. And then Titanic comes out, and it’s Leo, Leo, Leo. She gets a bit distracted in art school. She’s swept up by Giger, Froud, and Rambaldi.

Then, L.A.: A dream art department internship at Warner Brothers followed by a gig on the last years of _Charmed_. She’s lonely and busy and lonely. That’s when she finds _Lost,_ and therefore Josh Holloway, for the first time. He gets her through an endless number of projects that don’t taken off and a lot, _a lot_ , of hours working at Pottery Barn. Her roommates make fun of her as her wall dissecting the twists and turns of Sawyer’s plot lines takes over her bedroom. She makes friends with a PA for the show who gives her tips when Holloway is in L.A., and shots from her little Canon Rebel printed out at Kinko’s begin rivaling shots from fan sites.

But _Lost_ ends and Josh has a kid and she has to take down her wall when her group house splits up…and a void stretches in front of Suki.

So she moves in with Mindy and decides to make a fresh start. She lands a gig in production design for _Revenge_ —not her art school dream but steady work. Deep down, she’s bored, bored, bored. Drifting. Looking for meaning.

That’s when she meets Lucifer. Or sees him across LUX, anyway.

He’s beautiful and magical and perfect. He’s not a star or famous, really, but he’s _so much more_. He’s everything she desires him to be. He _wants_ to be watched. She’s never come across anyone who’s so at ease. She stares as women and men melt in his aura. Being desirable is an art form in his hands, and _someone_ should document this maestro.

Suki’s in falling, fast. She jots down notes about his sets and his lovers. About his outfits as she learns the styles and the designers. His deals, she leaves be. Somehow, she has a sense that those are much more private. Still, a portion of her bedroom wall gets covered with surreptitious phone photos. By the time Mindy moves out—yelling about obsessions and stalker laws and their apartment deposit—Suki is in deep.

Once, Lucifer brushes by her at his club. “Pardon me, darling,” he says, hand touching her shoulder to steady her. He’s on to talk to Mazikeen at the bar before Suki can even take a breath, and she’s shaking like a leaf.

She has a favorite corner at LUX, and that’s where she retreats. The sight lines are perfect for the bar, the piano, and Lucifer’s favorite booth. She’s smart enough to know to avoid Mazikeen at all costs. Sometimes, it’s easier to catch his activities outside of LUX than in. She knows his favorite tailor, his favorite manicurist, his favorite pool bar.

One night at LUX for drinks with her coworker Beth, her maybe-friend wants to know why Suki doesn’t just _talk_ to him. She sputters and tries to explain how he’s just so…and she’s just so…and she _can’t, can’t can’t_. Beth laughs and shrugs; after her fourth appletini, she leave Suki’s booth and shimmies her way to Lucifer’s side. Suki tacks Beth’s photo to her wall and never speaks to her again.

Her shrine is covering at least half the wall the first time she _sees_. A burly man joins Lucifer in his booth, but he doesn’t have the ease of someone there for pleasure. A deal, Suki thinks and turns to doodling in her notebook. Something changes in the sounds of the club, and Suki glances up. Lucifer has a hand twisted in the buff man’s shirt and is dragging him forward, and Suki can see he has a lot to say. Not a lover, she can tell. She’s about to turn back to her sketch—a concept drawing for her latest project—when it happens. His eyes flash red. Suki gasps. It’s no trick of the light—the beefy man is scrambling back, holding up his hands in apology. Suki can’t look away. She watches Lucifer clearly mouth the words, ‘Get out.’ The man knocks over a couple glasses on the table in his flight, and Lucifer’s eyes are their normal brown again.

 _Holy frak. Frakity frak!_ Suki is frozen. This is definitely not something that is supposed to happen in real life, but it did. It definitely did. Lucifer Morningstar is the Devil. Probably. Almost certainly. Or something. Definitely something. It doesn’t make Suki want to watch less.

Suki can _almost_ forget the eyes after a while. _Maybe_ it could have been a trick of the light. But by then she’s got a notebook noting the herculean amount he drinks, the mountains drugs. And there're the times she’s seen him throw someone out of LUX with startling ease before the bouncers can react.

He’s her very own mystery. Her mind jumps to every protagonist with a secret past she’s ever loved—her Nick Knight, her Methos, her Wolverine (the Hugh Jackman version of course). Maybe she should be concerned. She’s certainly aware of who the Devil is supposed to be. But she didn’t grow up with those stories. And, the Lucifer she watches is full of joy and pleasure. When she looks at him, she thinks about everything perfect—puffy clouds and toaster strudels and her favorite vibrator. He can’t be bad.

Besides, maybe she’s the only one who’s noticed.And someone _must_ document anyone this amazing.

She fills her cart at the craft store with yarn and colored tape, sticky notes and push pins. Red and pink, blue and orange, yellow and green—needing more shades as her taxonomy grows. She has a models section, a flight attendant section, an aspiring actors section, a kindergarten teachers section, and on and on. At some point, she’s at more colors than she was with _Lost_ , than the crayons she’d used to categorize My Little Ponies in third grade. She buys fabric and stuffing and doll-sized haberdashery. For the suits, she dumpster-dives at Lucifer’s favorite tailors or pays for fabric scraps, saying she’s an art student or a quilter or whatever will do. Usually, they’re happy to give her what she wants if she’ll only leave. She finds Lucifer throws away suits, often with suspicious holes, more than one would think. She grabs these up when she can, too.

Pretty soon, the only people she has over are Tyler, the deliver guy for Papa Paisano’s; David from China Garden; and Luis from La Hacienda. She can pester any of them to help her with a project in a pinch, but Tyler is the most patient (which is why she orders from Paisano’s even though Pizzeria PI makes the better pie).

By this time, she’s following Lucifer’s lovers a bit, too. Just to make sure the picture’s complete.

Suki feels she knows him pretty well after this many years. She can guess, more often that not, who will catch his fancy or whether the song he will play will be carefree or contemplative. So, she notes one night when he neither plays nor pays attention to his adoring crowd. Instead, he watches with laser focus as a man buys drink after drink for a tipsy woman. He’s a guy who’s been thrown out of LUX before, she’s pretty sure. Lucifer gets up and stalks to his side. But then he’s leaning close, all seduction, speaking in the man’s ear, and, when Lucifer pulls away, the man trails behind him. Suki thinks maybe she was wrong. She follows them out the side exit into the alley. On occasion, she’s seen Lucifer take lovers out this way before. If she slips out the other fire exit, she can grab a couple photos for documentation before leaving them be.

When she cracks the door, her phone drops to her side, her heart pounding. This is no assignation. Lucifer holds them man three feet in the air, pressed against the wall. He’s talking, but Suki can’t hear. Then…then everything changes. Lucifer’s face _changes_. It flickers and flashes, red and horrible.

Suki presses herself against the wall, gasping for breath. That couldn’t be real. It was like a scene out of _Supernatural_. The alley was dark. She was mistaken. But she probably wasn’t.

After that, her drawing are filled with the Devil. Sometimes, she embellishes. Tentacles or horns she probably didn’t see. Fangs and extra arms. When she gets spot work for a couple of SyFy channel shows, well, maybe a lot of her concepts look a bit similar.

One day—six years, four months, and sixteen days after she first saw him— _HE_ shows up at her apartment alongside the beautiful police detective with the great smile. It takes her a second to recover from her panic. She probably looks like she’s doing the cartoon eye pop—that or like she’s a heart-eye emoji. And she’s in her sweats and her hair is...and…

But he compliments the excellent detail on the French cuffs of her newest commemorative doll. And she _melts_. She tells him to check with Tyler because she apparently needs an alibi…but she’s getting distracted. She’s rarely been this _close_. She knows his favorite colognes, of course, and Clive Christian No. 1 is top among them. She saved and bought some. Uses it on _everything_. Even her favorite Hello Kitty blankie. _Especially_ her favorite Hello Kitty blankie. He’s admiring the doll, and she leans in, breathes in, draws in his scent…but the police detective has questions about her wall, about Jana, Jana’s GBFFN Raj, and a pilot they both hung out with. By this point, she’s captured a good part of Lucifer’s life, and she hopes he’s proud.

Suki helps with the investigation. She really does! And then the police detective is saying she’s sending an officer for a full statement and not to leave town. Abandon Lucifer? As if! She steps even closer to him, eyes wide: “Never!” she vows. 

When he hands her back her doll and says “bye,” she’s already floating. She pulls the doll he touched to her nose and breathes deep, planning the shrine she’ll build around it. It takes her a whole week to recover and another to make her commemoratives of The Day.

When she’s next at LUX, everything feels a little bit different. He’s sad, which seems as wrong as a gloomy Thermian. How can someone so at ease with everyone and everything be melancholy? But he finds his feet. Suki continues to archive his partners, even if they come a little less often.

Time passes. Her wall grows.

She sticks with him through his Creep Period. Maze is never around anymore, so it’s easier to go unnoticed even when LUX is emptier than she’s ever seen it.

When Lucifer starts dating Eve, Suki’s afraid everything is going to be different. That it will be Josh all over again. She’s a little sad, and she was pretty sure if Lucifer ever settled down, it would be with his police detective. But then it seems not much will change after all. Her wall of photos spreads around another corner. She starts a new section labeled, “Orgy Regulars.”

So when he’s gone as if he’s fallen off the face of the earth, she knows something is up. She’s gotten very good at tracking him, if she does kudos herself. She’s known he was in Vegas almost as soon he’d left—twice now. Someone like Lucifer Morningstar doesn’t just disappear. This time, though, there’s not trace of any kind. A few days become a week become a month. She _worries._ She picks up more shifts at West Elm. She still drops by LUX from time to time, still captures shots of some of the regulars. Surprisingly, that includes the police detective more often now. She hates every change his brother makes to the club.

One month turns into two.

Then he’s back.

She gets a text from Tim, one of Lucifer’s bouncers. She wore him down over six months in early 2018. Now he texts her when something interesting is going down at LUX (on the rare occasion she isn’t there), and she rewards him with leftover _The Mentalist_ swag. He’s a huge fan

Suki almost rushes out the door in her heart boxers—the ones that she once saw him wear after an orgy (she has the commemorative doll to prove it)—and her sloth-loves-cat t-shirt. Luckily, sense prevails.

When Suki skids into line at LUX, her hair is passably up and her dress and shoes will blend into the crowd. She taps her toe and bites her lip. Tim isn’t on the door, nor Otis or Arturo. It’s a new bouncer, probably hired by Lucifer’s brother. Taking a chance, she jumps out of line. She _can’t_ miss Lucifer’s first night back.

The bouncer blinks at her in surprise.

“Heeeeeyyyyyy,” she tries.

He looks unimpressed.

“I’m, uh, supposed to be inside already.” She tries to squeeze around his big body, but he’s not giving ground.

Now he’s scowling.

“I’m a friend of the detective!” she lands on with a bright grin, clasping her hands together.

He relaxes. “Not sure if she’s here yet, but go ahead.”

 _Softy_ , Suki thinks. But that’s just the kind of guy Lucifer’s brother would hire. She skitters in.

 _He_ ’s not in the club yet. Collecting a piña colada with an extra pineapple wedge at the bar, she heads to her usual booth. There are two women sitting there already, but she slides into one side anyway. They give her looks, but she glares daggers back. They leave.

She is patient.

It’s after midnight when there’s a ripple on the upper balcony. She casts here eyes up to see _him_ wrapping his hands around the railing. _Lucifer_. He wears his classic black Armani with white shirt, red pocket square. It’s perfect for his return to LUX. Suki forces herself to stop biting her lip.

He looks delicious as ever, except…

A thought has crossed her mind over the last couple months. One she’s hated to entertain. What if Lucifer had to go back to Hell? Absolute. Worst. Case. Scenario.

Now she wonders if it was true. She’s seen him happy and angry, joyful and grieving, carefree and burdened. She’s never seen him look out on LUX with this kind of cold, cold look. He _loves_ this place. Then, he’s heading to the elevator. Doesn’t even stop for a drink or to say hello to any of his guests. Just as the doors close, his shoulder slumps, and she worries he’s hurt. And he’s gone.

After lingering until closing time _just in case_ , she trudges to the door, unsettled but curious what this next chapter will bring.

The next day, rearranging pillows for a display, she gets a text from Henry, who panhandles across from LUX—probably because of the twenties she slips him every time he gives her a report. Lucifer left bright and early. _Probably police work_ , Suki thinks. She’d hate to miss his first post-return hookup. She quizzes Henry on his clothes—black suit, likely blue shirt. She’s learned years ago that Henry can’t tell French blue from robins egg.

The club is just starting to fill when she arrives after work. No Lucifer, but Amenadiel is looking worried at one end of the bar. As the night crawls on, she takes a chance on chatting up Donovan, who’s behind the bar tonight. _Occasionally_ she can get something from him.

While he mixes her a lemontini, she tries, “Sooooo….no set tonight?”

He looks confused, and she nods at the piano in the corner.

“Oh.” He sets the martini glass on the bar and shrugs. “Probably not. He left a little while ago. Stakeout, I think? Maybe ask Amenadiel. They had some words before he left.”

“No worries. It’s just been a while.”

“Yeah,” Donovan agrees before turning to a couple who’ve bellied up next to Suki.

Amenadiel’s gone, and she’d never talk to him anyway. She settles into her booth and begins sketching. Her mentor says she needs something _different_ for this latest project, more ‘extraterrestrial’ and less ‘monster.’

It’s close to last call when he returns.

Tonight, he makes his way to the bar. He’s agitated, in his own head. She’s seen this before. But there’s something different. She can’t quite put her finger on it.

Maybe it’s that difference, but she dares something she normally wouldn’t. She wends and winds her way to the bar.

By the time she reaches him, he’s got his drink—something clear, strangely enough. He’s holding his glass funny, too. From the bottom with the finger tips of his left hand. He rests his other arm on the wood like it’s a relief. She cozies up to the bar behind his back, making herself small because she doesn’t actually want to attract Patrick’s attention. Doesn’t want a drink.

Now she’s here, she doesn’t know what to do with herself. Then he shifts, and she catches his cologne. And it’s like the day he came to her apartment—she leans in, breathes in, draws in his scent. Clive Christian No. 1 explodes in her nose first. She slides closer and sniffs again. He smells familiar—and yet not. Lacking the underlay of cigarettes and whiskey and sex and rainbows and everything wonderful and…she’s completely confused now and needs to be sure. So she’s practically burying her nose in his side and sniffing deeper and deeper.

He notices. Stiffens and dances a half-step away. Looks down his nose at her. His features twist in confusion. “Excuse me?”

He doesn’t recognize her, which is a relief and stings at the same time and feels like she ate an entire handful of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans all at once.

“Heh uh heh,” she says, sliding down the bar until she hits a woman in a red halter dress who huffs at her.

Lucifer only turns back to his drink, studying it for a while instead of drinking, before finally retreating to the elevator.

She stares after him for a long, long time.

The next day, she gets almost nothing done on her design work and thinks about skipping her retail shift, but she’s going to need her paycheck if she’s going to paying for LUX cocktails. Her ex-therapist would have a lot to say about her going for three weekdays in a row. But this is an emergency.

Suki gets to LUX as soon as can after her shift ends. She has a mystery to solve and doesn’t want to miss any clues. Lucifer isn’t in the club when she arrives, but Maze is leaning against the bar with an especially sour expression. Suki hurries to her booth before she’s spotted.

Lucifer brushes in. The purple shirt is new and glorious. She sneaks a quick pic. Lucifer heads straight for Maze, dancing around to avoid touching any of his guests, and then they both head toward the elevator. They’re tense and snap a few words at one another Suki can’t make out. They’re often like that. And the elevator is gone.

Suki waits. It’s early. She’s hoping he’ll come back down and play a set. The piano remains pushed to the side, gathering dust, which is strange strange strange. It’s not much later when the detective arrives. She heads to the elevator with two bags in hand. Food, judging by the grease soaking the paper. Suki checks the time and opens her phone’s notes app.

It’s only a minute or two after that when the yellow light of the elevator catches her attention from the corner of her eye, and she turns in time to see the detective rushing out of it. Her posture is stiff, and her eyes are sheened with tears. Suki’s attention jumps to Lucifer. His jacket is gone and his beautiful purple shirt is untucked and pulled open at the collar. His hair is rumpled in away he doesn’t seem to have had time for. Definitely not with the detective, and Maze…seems wrong. Maybe there was another guest upstairs? One Suki missed?

Lucifer looks anxious and concerned as he watches Chloe’s retreat—right until he doesn’t. His face grows placid, and Suki leans so far forward to watch she’s nearly falling over the table. Then, just as the doors are sliding shut, he _smirks_. It’s a cold and nasty thing.

One thing’s clear: _He’s not Lucifer_.

Suki thumps back in her seat, jaw falling open. Her head is swimming with body snatchers and evil twins. Manchurian candidates and Buffybots. Human-suits from _Men in Black_. There’s nothing so obvious as an evil mustache. She grabs her phone and scans for a short video she shot of him last night. No tell-tale gleam to his eyes like in _Supernatural_.

Suki misses work the next day. Doesn’t answer her messages. She jots theories in her notebook. Studies the footage on her phone. It’s not early when she arrives at LUX for the fourth night in a row.

Not-Lucifer’s sitting on a stool, slumped over the bar, holding his glass in that weird way. Suki doesn’t think he’s trying to fool anyone right now.

He—whoever he is—seems sad, defeated. She…almost feels bad for him. After all, who could think of filling Lucifer’s shoes? Yet, she understands the appeal. Deeply. Suki thinks about doing something she’s never thought about doing with Lucifer. She thinks about going over to talk to him. Maybe she can find out who is he…and where Lucifer is. Maybe—

She’s coasting toward the bar—when Amenadiel crosses by, voice booming, “You’re up late”—and Suki keeps moving while craning her neck to watch.

Not-Lucifer straightens, tries to pull together his act as Amenadiel slides in to lean against the bar next to him. But it’s not even a little convincing.

“Michael,” Amenadiel pronounces.

And with that _Michael_ folds.

Suki lands at a high top on the far side of the bar. She strains to hear, but the noisy party to her right won’t hush no matter how hard she glares.

Amenadiel and Michael squabble like, well, brothers. That’s one big question answered, and Suki is _profoundly_ relieved.

Michael gets up, pushes away from the bar, and she can see he’s upset. The brothers exchange more words. Suki recognizes hurt, knows Amenadiel has gotten to him. Maybe he deserves it; maybe he doesn’t. Amenadiel can lecture with the best.

Michael’s stung, she can tell. But before he leaves, he turns and smirks defiantly at Amenadiel, and _that_ is a move worthy of Lucifer.

He _is not_ her perfect man. But she does wonder if he can be her BFSFN—her Best Fake Satan For Now.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think, or if I got anything wrong! Rushed a little to almost make the deadline, so I may have. 😄
> 
> Shout out with Clive Christian No. 1 to ariaadagio’s great current fic [ For Each Ecstatic Instant](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25992655/chapters/63193456%E2%80%9Crel=), which I had the pleasure to beta read. PLEASE check it out (of course, I’m sure you already are)!
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr at [hiromystory](https://hiromystory.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
